


the books of darkest magic

by iihappydaysii



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, First Kiss, Getting Together, Halloween, Happy Ending, Horror, M/M, Modern AU, Outing, Weirdly Fluffy, Witches, john owns a bookstore, kinda sappy, which is kind of hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: John and Brian are spending Halloween night doing inventory in John's bookstore when they come across a creepy old book and strange things begin to happen
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Lord John Grey/Brian Randall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28
Collections: Lord John Trick-or-Twink Spooktacular 2020





	the books of darkest magic

**Author's Note:**

> for the Lord John trick or twink fic spooktacular 
> 
> Happy Halloween!

Gaggles of young children huddled in dark flannels and knit sweaters as they thundered to the school bus stop. Crispy orange and red leaves fluttered down from branches and scattered on the sidewalk and the street, leaving in their wake that sweet, singular musky scent. And the stoops of the brick houses that lined the street displayed the smiling or scowling faces of fresh-cut Jack-O-Lanterns. This was Boston and autumn had become so incredibly present Brian Randall could no longer pretend it was simply an uncharacteristically chilly mid-July.

Growing up, the Halloween season had been Brian’s favorite part of the year. His mom would bake big, moist pumpkin muffins for his breakfast, and Dad would bring down boxes from the attic full of decorations. They’d fill the house with felt black cats, ceramic pumpkins and painted ghosts. They’d drink apple cider and take turns telling each other scary stories. They were some of the best memories Brian had, and yet, this Halloween, even with the scent of his mom’s pumpkin muffins in the air, Brian Randall felt entirely devoid of holiday spirit.

“Brian,” Claire said as she walked into the room, holding an orange ceramic tray. “Would you like a muffin?”

The spicy aroma made Brian’s mouth water, but still he replied, “No thanks, Mom. I’ll grab something on the way to school.”

Brian didn’t live at home. Not normally, but a stupid sewage flood had sent him back here. Back home. Except home didn’t feel like home anymore. Not since Dad passed.

“Hey, Bri, did ye try what yer mother made? They’re delicious.”

“I know,” Brian said, standing from the table and his half-finished mug of coffee. “I’ve had them before.”

Claire scowled at him, but Brian did his best to ignore it and swallow down the dregs of his coffee.

“Do ye have work today?” Jamie asked, taking a sip from a cauldron shaped mug.

“Yep, after class.” He didn’t technically have work today, but Brian had gotten pretty inept at pretending he forgot his schedule and just hanging out at work after class. He… had his reasons. Some of them beyond trying to avoid his childhood home that had become a Jamie and Claire love fest.

“Say hi to John for me then. Willa too, of course.”

Brian dropped his head to disguise the smile and the heat in his cheeks at the mention of Jamie’s best friend. Meeting John Grey and his daughter Willa had been the one bright spot in this whole mom shacking up with his birth father after Brian’s dad had only been dead a couple months.

“Yeah, I will,” Brian said as he passed by Jamie to the hook near the door. He grabbed his backpack from it and slung it over his shoulder.

“It’s chilly out,” Claire called out to him. “Don’t forget your jacket.”

 _Oh yes,_ Brian thought, _Living at home at twenty-one is super fun._

_. . ._

_“_ You’re coming tonight, right?” Phaedra asked as she dropped down in the desk beside Brian. “Or are you being a loser and hanging out with your mom, like always?”

“Nope.”

“Which one are you noping?” She dug a notebook out of her leather bag and slapped it on the small desk cramped between all the others in the lecture.

“Both,” Brian replied, opening his laptop.

“Oh come on. You can’t just ditch your best friend’s Halloween party. It’s rude. Besides, that hot guy from World Civ who always stares at you will be there.”

Brian rolled his eyes. He had no interest in Kevin… or Karl, maybe. He couldn’t remember. “I have to work.”

“Just ask John for it off. Tell him it’s for me.” Phaedra grinned broadly. “He likes me.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, then,” Brian mumbled under his breath.

Phaedra kicked his shin hard with her boot and Brian yelped as Professor Wakefield walked in.

“It was easier when you just had a crush on Wakefield,” Phaedra mumbled.

“I did not.” He had. But that was long over now.

“At least you hung around campus, now you’re always at that damn bookstore.” Phaedra sighed. “Can you at least spare one night away from your totally inappropriate crush on your boss-slash-father’s best friend?”

 _When you say it like that…_ Brian thought… _it did seem fucking delusional._ So delusional he didn’t even have the strength to argue with Phaedra that he didn’t have a crush on John Grey.

. . .

Grey would miss the Halloween decorations he, Willa and Brian had put up in this shop at the beginning of the month. He’d miss the orange lights and spiderwebs hung between the old stacks. Would miss the vintage Halloween signs he’d scrounged up at garage sales and thrift stores that they’d hung on the old wallpaper or tacked to the windows.

He’d miss the haunting refrains of “Monster Mash”, “I Put a Spell on You” and “Love Potion No. 9” floating down from the store’s speaker systems. He’d miss the smell of carved pumpkin cooking slowly in the candlelight.

There had been a time only a few years ago where this season ended with following Willa around the neighborhood as she gathered sacks of candy dressed as a dinosaur or a black cat or one year, a big bowl of spaghetti. That had been a hell of a project.

He missed that too. The costume parade at the elementary school. The stacks of festive construction paper crafts. He missed pretending it was the Great Pumpkin that had left candy in her lunchbox and definitely not him.

Those times seemed so faraway now.

“Are you certain you don’t want to spend tonight with me?” Grey asked his daughter, who was sitting in armchair by the window, flipping through a book from his most recent purchase for the store, her pin-covered backpack between her hightop shoes.

“Spend Halloween night with my dad? Going through musty old books? Instead of going to a party hosted by the most popular boy in school?” Willa flipped another page. “Desperation is not a good look on you, Pops.”

“I am only going through the musty old books because you’re abandoning me. I can leave the books for tomorrow. We could go home, pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters and watch old sci-fi monster movies. You used to love that!”

“The key phrase there is _used_ to.” Willa sighed, then finally looked away from the book to Grey. “I love you, Papa. You know that, but _like_ I have my own life now. Hey, you know what you should do tonight?”

Grey frowned. “What’s that?”

“Go on a date. I mean how long has it been?”

Grey dodged that loaded question with a “And I’m supposed to just materialize this date out of thin air?”

Willa shrugged, then dropped the book in her bag, zipping it up. “I don’t know. Why don’t you just use grindr or something?”

“What do you know about grindr?”

Just then the doorbell above the bookshop’s door jingled and in walked Brian Randall. He was wearing a tight pair of ripped black jeans, his leather jacket and a black and white flannel over a worn Ghostbusters t-shirt. Grey’s stomach did that foolish, unacceptable flipping thing. He had to bite down on his cheek to redirect his thoughts.

“Brian, would you tell him…” Willa pointed at Grey, standing up from the armchair. “… that he needs to get laid.”

“ _Willa,”_ Grey spat, feeling himself flush hot.

Brian’s cheeks turned a soft pink and he looked from his sister to Grey then stared straight ahead as if into the abyss.

“I'm sorry about my daughter,” Grey said, shaking his head. “I clearly did a poor job raising her.”

Willa stuck her tongue out at Grey.

“What brings you here?” Grey asked. “You know you’re not scheduled to work today. Not that I mind your stopping by.” It wasn’t the first time Brian had showed up on a day he wasn’t working. From what he could tell, Brian had had a hard time accepting Jamie as part of his family. As much as Grey loved Jamie, he couldn’t exactly blame the kid. He’d had his life turned upside down over the last year. “I just thought you’d be getting ready for the party tonight.”

“How’d you know about that?” Brian asked as he walked over the counter and tore into a fun-size Milky Way from the candy bowl he kept out for customers.

“Your friend, Phaedra stopped by earlier to look around and she mentioned it.”

“She did, did she?” Brian frowned.

Grey had a strange and unacceptable urge to cup Brian’s cheeks, softly, until the tension in his face fell away. _Fuck._

 _“_ I don’t really need to go,” Brian continued. “I’m not really into parties. I can man the store. I figured you might want to spend Halloween night with Willa.

“Oh, he does,” Willa said, standing from the table and tossing her book bag over her shoulder. “But I’m cutting him off.” She strode over to Grey and laid a hand on his arm. “You need friends your own age, Pops. I can’t take care of you forever.”

Grey rolled his eyes. “Be home by eleven, and no drinking.”

“Fine, I’ll stick to cocaine, But just for tonight.”

Brian laughed, and Grey shot him a look, that made him straighten up, eyes wide. It was… adorable. _Fuck. Again._

 _“_ And this boy’s parents will be there…?” Grey added.

“Yeah, who do you think is supplying the cocaine?”

“Willa,” Brian jumped in. “You’re going to put your father in an early grave and I need him around.” Brian nudged Grey’s arm. “For the paycheck.”

“I’ll be fine, Papa,” Willa conceded. “Contrary to the evidence, you did raise me to be a good kid.”

“I know.” Grey said and put out his fist. Willa rolled her eyes and sighed and reluctantly fist-bumped him.

Willa looked over at Brian. “He’s such a dork. I don’t know what you hang around here for.”

Brian glanced over John, a smile tilting his lips. “Oh, mostly because he makes me feel cool in comparison.”

With that, Willa walked through the front door of the bookstore, ringing the brass bell and letting in a cool gust of fall air.

“So,” Brian opened another candy from the bucket and tore into it. “What can I do to help, boss?”

Selfishly, Grey wanted Brian to stay. They always had a good time together on Brian’s shift. The hours would pass quickly and yet, he never wanted the end of the day to come. _But_ it didn’t help to indulge his silly, half-baked fantasy about Brian. Sure, he was good-looking, smart, and despite his age, more mature than half the guys Grey managed to date. But he was still seventeen years younger ( _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ_ , as Claire would always say), Willa’s half-brother (though she didn’t know that) and Grey’s best friend’s son. A best friend he _used_ to be in love with. Over a decade ago, so did it even count anymore? He didn’t think so.

“John?” Brian prompted, bringing Grey back to the present.

“Hm, oh sorry,” John said. “It’s Halloween, Bri. You really don’t have to stay. The store closes in an hour. A few boxes of old books from some stores that closed in the /Berkshires came in the mail today and I was planning an exciting evening of inventory.”

“I like inventory.”

“More than a college party?”

“Did you even like… _go_ to college?” Brian asked, dumping some M&Ms into his mouth. “You can only see a naked frat guy puke up cheap beer so many times before it’s just not interesting anymore.” His gaze lingered on John for a moment, and his cheerful countenance shifted slightly. “Unless… I can go. If you need a night alone or something.” He started to walk towards the door, when John caught his arm.

John cursed the warm twist of excitement he felt between his ribs at the connection. “No… no. I’d be happy for the company. As long as your parents weren’t expecting you either. Your mother mentioned Halloween was big for your family growing up.”

“Yeah. It was.” Brian looked down at the ground, then back up again. “So where are these boxes?”

Before Grey could answer, the bell rang and some customers walked through the door.

“Could you help us find the children’s books?” said a mother with a young boy standing by her legs.

“I want something _really_ scary,” said the boy.

The mother looked at Grey and Brian. “Not too scary.”

“I’ll show you what we’ve got,” Brian said, striding over to the mom and her kid. “But there’s one I think you’ll love. It was my favorite when I was your age.”

Grey couldn’t help his smile as he watched Brian walk off with the customer. He was always so gracious to everyone who came in, and even though he should probably be on a date like Willa had said and Brian should probably be at that Halloween party, Grey found he was rather pleased with the way this evening was turning out.

. . .

Well, Phaedra was going to kill Brian come Monday, but she’d killed him before and it never seemed to stick. Besides, death was worth it if it meant an evening alone with John Grey, even if they were just sorting through old, musty books together.

The hour before closing passed quickly, with only a few customers coming after the mother and her son. The sun was setting just as the last of their patrons were leaving for the evening and John flipped the open sign to closed.

“Want to order a pizza before we get to work on the boxes?” Brian asked. “I’m starved.”

“Why not? Pepperoni, sausage and olives, yes?”

“Yep.” Brian grinned, trying not to feel excited that John knew his pizza order because that was an embarrassing thing to be excited about.

“I’ll order breadsticks too. I’ve got some pumpkin ale that Harry from the brewery gave me. He’s been trying to bribe me into stock his book of lewd poetry.”

“Ooh, yes, break it out… the booze. Not the lewd poetry.”

“I thought you didn’t want to watch a frat guy vomit this Halloween?”

“You’re not a frat guy.”

John nudged him as he passed by, casting him a side-eyed glance. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Brian turned around to keep his eye on the man. “You were in a frat?”

“Kappa Alpha Nu.”

“So weird.”

John reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone. He made a funny face when he looked at the screen.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” John said. “Your father texted me.”

“Oh.” Brian looked down at the countertop.

“Yes, apparently Willa stopped by to borrow some earrings from Claire for her Halloween costume and she asked for a dozen eggs because her friends were going to make a quiche for the party.”

Brian snorted. “Ah, yes. The traditional Halloween quiche.”

John sighed, then looked up at Brian. “Should I have not let her go?” He worried his lip.

“You have to start letting her grow up sometime or she’ll resent you. It’s just a middle school party. She’ll be fine. Unless Jamie actually gave her the eggs, and then we may have to bail her out of jail.”

After John ordered their food, he grabbed the bottles from the mini-fridge. He opened two of the on the edge of the counter. _Maybe he really had been a frat guy…_ John handed one of the bottles to Brian.

Brian took a sip of ale.

“Come to the back with me and help me drag the rest of the boxes out here. Willa and I were going through that one,” he pointed at the box by the table,” but there’s quite a few of them. I bought their whole collection.”

“That must’ve cost a fortune.”

John shrugged and wrapped his lips around the bottle. Brian tried not to be jealous and failed. “Actually no. It was a really good deal. The owner died and it seemed like her kids just wanted to be rid of it all.”

“Fair enough,” Brian replied.

The two of them navigated through the stacks to the back of the store. John unlocked the door to the storage closet and began to bring down giant plastic containers each one laden to the top with books. There were twelve in all, including the one that Willa had been going through.

As they carried the boxes to the front of the store, where they’d be able to go through them comfortably while sitting in the arm chairs, they conversed easily about well, it felt like _everything._ School, work, Willa, and a sprinkling of hopes and dreams. Brian had never found anyone so easy to talk too, certainly not anyone he was attracted to. And, boy, was he attracted John Grey, even in the worst of times. Tonight, however, was not the worst of times. Tonight, John looked gorgeous. A soft blue cashmere sweater that clung to his body in all the right ways. Gray wool trousers that hugged a fucking perfect ass. Topped off by the most handsome face Brian had ever seen in his life, and today it was slightly scruffy, his nose balancing some very _daddy_ glasses. And Brian wanted desperately to sink his hands into his wavy hair and bite his lip—

“Brian?”

“Hmm—“ Brian yelped as John’s voice jolted him back to the present. “What? Sorry.”

John smiled at him, looking amused. “You alright?”

“Yup.” Brian cleared his throat. “Just, uh, got lost in thought there. What were you saying?”

“Just asked if you could grab my laptop, so we could put the new books into the inventory list.”

Brian blinked. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Is it under the register?”

John nodded, taking a sip of his pumpkin ale. “Yes, thank you.”

After getting his laptop, Brian settled down in the chairs with John and the began to sort through the books he’d bought. It was a rather good selection in the first few boxes from what Brian could tell. There were old cozy mysteries, a few first edition classics, a rather extension collection of antique books on ice fishing, among a selection of smutty romances.

Brian flipped through one of them, absentmindedly, and found himself snorting at one of the descriptions of female anatomy— _“I devoured her intimacy, like a pungent and delicate fish taco.”_

 _“_ Fuck’s sake,” Brian muttered. “No wonder I’m gay.”

At the words, he felt the blood run out of his face. That had been a thought meant for the inside of his damn brain, but it come out his mouth and under no circumstances could it be crammed back in.

John was a good man. Brian liked John, but he was also Jamie’s best friend and Jamie didn’t know Brian was gay. His mom didn’t know Brian gay. He’d been going to tell her and then dad had died and Jamie was a devout conservative Catholic and _fuck, fuck, fuck…_

John blinked. “You’re,” he said tightly. “Did you just say you were gay?”

Brian froze at first, then nodded. “Yup.”

After a long silence, John said, “Oh. Oh, I didn’t know that. I’m surprised Jamie didn’t tell me.”

“I’m not sure how he would,” Brian muttered, feeling a strong urge to run away from John instead of towards him for the first time since they met.

“He doesn’t know,” John said.

“And he doesn’t need to.” The edge in Brian voice was sharp now. “I didn’t mean to say anything to you.”

“Oh, oh Christ, Brian, I wouldn’t tell him. That’s yours to share if and when you want to.”

Relief washed over Brian and helped him to relax, yet he still didn’t know how John felt about it. He didn’t want their friendship to get weird because of this. “Thanks, you know how Jamie is. Goes to mass like three times a week.”

“Look, Brian.” John sighed. “I know how Jamie _seems,_ but sometimes what we seem to be isn’t what we are. He may not react to the news the way you think he would.”

Brian scoffed. “I’m sure he’d _love_ to have a son who’s a queer.”

John stiffened. “He doesn’t seem to mind having a best friend who’s a queer.”

If John had look surprised at Brian’s admission, he couldn’t imagine what he’d look like right now to an observer. “You’re _gay?_ And Jamie _knows,_ and he’s _fine_ with it?” Brian couldn’t fucking believe that. Even his own dad had accepted it, begrudgingly, when he’d caught Brian, but it had been like a “you’re my son I love you no matter what” kind of thing.

John nodded. “He was, you know, surprised, a decade ago, wasn’t sure exactly how to handle it, but he learned. I’ll say that about Jamie, however you feel about the man, he’s… teachable. I reckon your mom would agree with me there.”

“Still.” Brian worried his bottom lip. “Please don’t tell him.”

John gave him a gentle smile, then leaned forward to touch Brian’s hand. His skin felt warm and, still, it made Brian shiver. John’s thumb lingered there, over a freckle just below Brian’s knuckle. Then, John pulled away abruptly with a sharp inhale.

It startled Brian and he asked, “Are you alright?”

John cleared. “Yes, I’m… yes.” He cleared his throat again. “I just thought I heard our dinner.”

Brian looked over his shoulder at the window. A few people passed by on the street, but there was no one at the door. “I don’t think so.”

“No… you’re right. I’m just hearing things.”

. . .

Brian was gay. What the hell was Grey meant to do with that information? Especially because Jamie didn’t know. He would never tell. This was a secret you kept, but _still._ It had been years since he had any big secrets from Jamie. And to top it all off, he’d felt something when he’d touched Brian. Oh, he’d felt things before when their hands had accidentally brushed or Brianhad clapped his shoulder or smiled at him, but Grey had been able to easily dismiss it before. When Brian was straight. Or, more accurately, when he’d thought Brian was straight. Now, he knew better and it left him with the wonderfully terrifying thought that maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

Of course, Grey knew he still couldn’t entertain them. Brian was Jamie’s son and Willa’s brother and so much younger than him…

“Uh, John, should we get back to the books?” Brian asked, looking up at him with a sheepish, lopsided grin.

Grey smiled, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “Yes,” he said. “Yes we should.”

He walked back over to the chair where he’d been sitting, pulled a book from the stack and got back to work. If he looked up at Brian more than he should’ve, well, there was no one else here to tell on him.

Eventually, despite the revelation about Brian’s sexuality, things settled down, returned to the normal ease they had around each other. It was comforting to find their rapport still so easily accessible. The pizza came and they opened two more bottles of ale and they laughed and they drank and sorted books, eventually sliding to the floor to make the sorting easier.

Grey had stood, taking their plates of trash with him to the bin, when he overheard Brian say, “Oh, whoa. What the hell is this?”

“What the hell is what?” Grey strode back over where Brian was sitting. With the pizza gone, he could smell Brian’s shampoo again. It was a brief distraction before Brian interrupted the thought.

“This book is seriously fucked up.”

“More zombie porn.” The one they found had ended up in the donation pile.

“It’s like… handwritten. I’m not even sure it should be in here. Look.”

Grey settled down beside Brian, this time quite close, legs pressed together. He took the book from Brian, trying and failing the shiver that coursed through his body at the touch.

The book felt heavier than it looked, leather-bound but softer than he’d expected, almost supple. He flipped through a few of the pages. Brian was correct. It was handwritten and in an ink that bled just slightly, despite somehow remaining precise. And there was a smell to it, not overpowering by any means, but unmistakable and nothing like the regular scent of old books—something he loved. No, this aroma left him feeling distinctly uneasy. So much so he couldn’t help but want to hold his breath.

“I don’t think it’s all in English, either,” Brian added. “I swear I saw some Latin.”

“Latin,” Grey agreed, inspecting a few more pages. “And looks like some Greek. Christ, Mayan maybe.”

“Mayan? Seriously?”

Grey nodded. “There’s definitely Scottish Gaelic. I know some, but your…” he hesitated, remembering how Brian preferred their relationship not be addressed in that way. “Jamie could read it.”

“What of it _can_ you read?”

“Something about… well, there’s the world circle. Stone, maybe too. Or it could mean gemstone.”

“Do you think it’s like a diary?” Brian mused, but then shook his head. “No, then it wouldn’t be in so many languages.”

“‘Unless whoever wrote it was worried about someone reading it.”

“Maybe.” Brian worried his lip between his teeth. He leaned forward, perking up slightly with an excited interest. “But… can I see it?”

Grey handed the strange book back to Brian, who carefully examined a few pages.

“I don’t see any dates,” Brian said. “If it were a diary wouldn’t there be dates.”

“There wouldn’t _have_ to be, so it could still be a diary, but you’re right that there likely _would_ be dates, so it’s probably not.”

“Then, what else could it be?” Brian sighed, then attempted to read out some of the Gaelic, though this accent was so atrocious it really was hard to imagine that this was Jamie Fraser’s son. “Do you have any idea what I said?”

“No, but I think that may have more to do with your pronunciation than my knowledge of the language.”

Brian glared at him, pouting, then he gave Grey a small shove. It was silly, almost childish, but Grey couldn’t help but shove back and somehow, they ended up in a rather ridiculous makeshift wrestling match. Their hands were twisted together, their arms too. Brian even kneed Grey in thigh. The book laid by them, but Grey wasn’t thinking about it anymore, the upsetting smell barely even registered. When Grey tried to push Brian’s left hand away, Brian grabbed tight to it. Grey instinctively pulled back and accidentally— _yes, accidentally,_ he told himself—pulled Brian on top of him, his legs pinned between Brian’s, bits of skin revealed in the rips of the young man’s jeans.

Both their breaths came slow, labored. Grey felt every inch of where their bodies connected, like hundreds of live wires. He looked up at Brian looking down at him, and drank in the soft lines of his face, the ruddy red curls, the fullness of his lips. God those lips seemed to steal every thought from him, every last ounce of reason and propriety he’d been clinging to since the moment they’d met. Grey leaned up, hoping to God he wasn’t crazy, and he swore Brian was leaning down and then, _crash._

One of the stacks of books had fallen and it was enough to shock Brian off his lap, as well as cause the lights in the store to flicker.

“What the hell was that?” Brian asked, and Grey wasn’t entirely sure if he meant he sudden crash or the almost kiss. That was what happened, wasn’t it? _Fuck._ It _was._ He’d almost kissed Jamie Fraser’s son. He stood up from the floor. That could not happen again. _Ever._ And yet when he returned his gaze to Brian, all Grey could think of was pulling the man to his feet, rucking up that damn Ghostbusters shirt and getting his hands all over that warm, freckled skin.

“John?” Brian prompted again, this time softly, as he stood from the floor as well.

“Yes, um, I’m not sure.” Grey looked over at the stack of fallen books. “That’s not ever happened before.”

The lights flickered again. “The lights too? Jesus.”

There was the sound of fluttering, and both Brian and Grey turned toward the source of the sound. A few pages of the strange book flipped as if they were being turned.

Brian backed up, crashing into Grey, who put a hand on his hip to steady him. Brian didn’t step away and Grey, thoughtlessly, left his hand there.

“Is there like a draft or something or what the hell?” Brain spoke through his teeth.

“This is all quite strange.” Grey blinked. “But I’m sure—“

Before Grey could finish his thought, the entire bookstore was flooded in darkness.

. . .

“John,” Brian squawked, then felt suddenly embarrassed by the sound of his voice. He hadn’t meant to sound like a big chicken, even if he was, in actuality, a big fucking chicken.

But John only seemed to cling more tightly to him, pulling their bodies together. One hand still on his hip, the other falling down his forearm just above his wrist.

“I should check the breakers. Looks like the lights are on across the street, so it’s probably just that.” One of Grey’s hands dropped away, and despite everything, Brian still felt the loss of the touch.

Brian pulled himself together enough to pull his phone out of his pocket and turned on the flashlight. It worked for a moment, then the screen went black. He noticed the laptop they’d been using was dark now too.

“I’m out of battery,” Grey sighed. “Do you want to stay here or…”

Brian dumbly latched onto Grey’s wrist. “Oh no, we’re not splitting up. Haven’t you ever seen a horror movie.”

“We’re not in a horror movie, Brian.”

“Nobody in a horror movie thinks they’re in a horror movie.”

“Fine,” John relented. “Come with me.” He took a step away from Brian, who couldn’t have that for a multitude of reasons. Brian jolted forward in took the man’s hand in blind fumbling desperate grasp.

John stiffened and for a terrifying moment, Brian thought he’d pull away, but he only held on tighter, their palms creating a small furnace of heat between them. Stumbling, they navigated their way to the storage room at the back of the store. Brian’s heart throbbed a steady beat rumbling through his chest to his head and he wasn’t breathing nearly enough to keep from being lightheaded. Brian appreciated a good scare as much as the next guy, but a scare should be confined to a movie screen or a haunted house. That said, if it wasn’t for this damn Halloween power outage he wouldn’t be holding John Grey’s hand so maybe he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“There it is,” John said, presumably meaning the breaker box. Metal clanged, followed by the sound of a switch, flipping back and forth. “Dammit.”

“Do we have flashlights? Candles?” Brian asked, embarrassed by the crack in his voice.

“Yes, somewhere back here. In one of these boxes.”

Brian hesitated, then said cautiously. “That we can’t see.”

“Yes, Brian,” John replied, deadpan. “One of these boxes that we can’t see.”

“Cool. Should be easy to find then.”

Brian couldn’t see the glare that John gave him then, but he sure could feel it.

Somehow, with a great deal of effort and stubbed toes and knocked-over boxes, he and John managed to find a box full of candles and a couple flashlights. Unfortunately, the flashlights were out of battery. They scrounged up a box of motel matches from the same box and fumbled to light one of the candles.

Once lit, it cast an eerie glow in the storage room.

“This just makes it spookier,” Brian said.

“I doubt we’ll be able to finish the inventory under these conditions. You should… go home.”

Brian frowned, but shoved down the sudden feeling of rejection. “Right. Yeah, we should go.”

“Yes, but we could… we could go to your parents’ house. Your mother invited me earlier.”

“Um” was all Brian managed. He didn’t want to stop spending time with John, but he also didn’t want to spend time with John _and_ his mom _and_ Jamie. He kind of hated the reminder that this man he was crushing on was his father’s best friend.

“Or, I mean, we could… my house is nearby. I had candy to hand out.”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded, biting his bottom lip. “Cool. Yeah.”

Driven by their new plan and the light of that single candle, Brian and John navigated with far more ease to the front door.

John handed Brian the candle, then reached out and took the door lock between his fingers. “Shit,” he spat, pulling back like he was bit. “Fuck.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

John cursed again, shaking his hand. “Christ. It’s _hot._ ”

“The lock?” Brian reached out to see if he could feel it, but John knocked his hand away.

“Don’t. When I say it’s hot, I mean it. I think I’m really burned.”

“Man, seriously?” Brian cradled John’s hand in his and looked at his fingers. The tips of his thumb, pointed and middle were a raw, puffy red. “Shit. I’ll fix it up with the first aid kit.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

Brian shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll have to pee on it,” he said deadpan.

John eyes narrowed as he stared down at his injured hand. “That’s jellyfish stings and it’s not even true.”

Brian opened his mouth to retort, but the words jammed in his throat. A reflection skittered across the window, a naked, fleshy thing that moved behind him as quick as startled spider.

“Oh my God. Did you see that?”

John looked up. “See what?”

Brian turned his back towards the window and took a step back towards John. The room was so flooded in darkness he couldn’t see anything.

“I think there’s someone in here.”

“No. No, there can’t be.”

Brian nodded. “I think so. I saw them… it… I don’t know… in the window.”

“Perhaps you saw something outside. It’s too dark in here for you to have seen something other than your own reflection, even then. But that could’ve been it. You could’ve seen yourself.”

“I didn’t see myself.”

“Well, I don’t know.”

The sound of bare, running footsteps turned Brian’s blood cold as ice. “Tell me you didn’t hear that.”

“It was… I mean it was probably… rats?”

There it was again. “Rats, my ass.”

“Whatever it is I think we should leave.”

“I agree, but we can’t even touch the lock, right?” Candle shaking in his hand, Brian turned towards John, who was stripping his sweater off, leaving him in nothing but a thin undershirt that left nothing to the imagination.

Brian swallowed down the forming lump in his throat. _Not the time, you horny idiot._

John wadded the sweater up and tried to turn the lock again. “It’s stuck.”

“Let me try.” Brian sat down the candle on the table and took John’s sweater. John was right. The damn lock wouldn’t budge. “Shit. Shit. What are we going to do?”

“It’s probably in our heads. It’s Halloween, Bri. We’re… scaring ourselves.”

Brian wished John were right. They’d been having a perfectly pleasant evening before and if it wasn’t for the stuck lock, he’d be on his way back to John’s place right now. “We could try climbing through the bathroom window?”

He didn’t love the idea, as it required walking towards the footsteps and the source of the reflection he’d seen, but it was the only idea Brian had left.

“Yes, yes. Let’s try that,” John hissed as he picked up the candle, before remembering to use his uninjured hand.

“I’ll take it,” Brian added, grabbing the candle and then John’s hand.

Together, they walked by the light of the candle through the stacks to the left, aiming towards the bathroom. As they turned, Brian caught sight of something over his shoulder and gasped. But when he looked back towards it, there was nothing. _Imagination,_ Brian assured himself. _Just like John had said._

_. . ._

Grey had seen something, he thought. Just beyond Brian’s shoulder… it wasn’t anything though. It couldn’t be. No one else was in here and the candle wasn’t nearly bright enough to reveal anything hidden more than a foot or so ahead of them. Still, a shiver ran his spine.

They walked into the bathroom and there was just enough light shining in through the window that they Grey could see quite well. At least, it seemed like this side of the street had not lost electricity.

“I’ll get the window,” Brian said, dropping Grey’s hand. He climbed up onto the counter and grabbed the window latch.

“Fuck,” Brian yelped, jolting back.

He stumbled off the counter and Grey lunged forward to keep him upright. He looked down at Brian’s hand. It was burned just as his had been.

“What the hell is going on?” Brian snarled. He flipped on the faucet and ran his hand under cold water as he murmured a string of curses.

“Perhaps we should call for assistance… though I’m not quite sure what we’d say…”

“Our cell phones are dead,” Brian spoke over the sound of running water.

“The store has a landline.”

Brian sighed, a sound of assent, then shut the water off. “Here the fuck we go again.” He grabbed the candle, then reached for John’s hand again, but then looked down at this injury. “Sorry.”

“We’ll stay close,” Grey assured him gently.

With a nod, they left the bathroom again and hurried through the dark stacks. They stepped out into the main area of the store and were faced with a sight that made Grey’s knees buckle.

A woman stood before them, bare naked and dripping wet. Her breathing sounded heavy and wet, a deep, guttural, setting sound. A wild tangle of hair obscured most of her face as she shook trembling the candlelight.

What he was seeing couldn’t be possible, but Brian stood, frozen and trembling, clearly seeing it too.

“Ma’am,” Grey tried. A part of him believing or hoping that this was just some poor lost woman… “Ma’am, are you alright? I can call for some help.”

Her neck snapped up and she hissed like a snake. She said something too. Something Grey couldn’t make out.

“Pardon me, I—“

“Books-s-s,” she hissed again. “Where. Is. My. Books-s-s.”

Brian raised a shaking arm and pointed behind the woman to where that strange book laid out on the floor. Slowly, the woman pivoted towards the place Brian was pointing.

The woman shrieked an unearthly sound, dropped to her knees and skittered on all fours across the ground an animal to the book. She growled, turned around, still on all fours. “Books-s-s. Where is the other?”

Brian shook his head. “I-I don’t know.”

“I. Need. The. Other!” the woman shouted and the sound carried a force with it that shattered the windows and knocked Grey back like a punch to his stomach. He fell back hard. Brian did too.

In an instant, she scurried forward again and pounced on Grey like a wild cat. Her face hung over him, beautiful in a horrifying way. Her breath reeked of decay. “Books-s-s.” She hissed again.

Her nails dug through his shirt and pierced the flesh of Grey’s shoulders.

“Hey, bitch,” Brian shouted.

The woman whipped her head towards Brian and he continued, “Want your book? Go and fucking get it.” He hurled a book as far as he could down on the aisles.

She howled and threw herself off Grey and hurtled toward the thrown book.

Brian helped Grey to his feet with a strong pull and they both raced out the broken window.

“Not. My. Books-s-s!” the woman shrieked again and the windows and the lights down the block shattered all at once in a rain of glass. A gaggle of trick-or-treaters at the end of the street all screamed and started to run.

“What do we do now?” Brian said as they jogged towards the main street.

“We get back to my place and call the police.”

“And say what?”

“A batshit woman broke into my shop. I don’t bloody know.”

“Alright, Alright. Let’s just hurry.”

. . .

When they arrived at John’s house, Brian raided his liquor cabinet and poured them both a glass of whiskey. Brian wasn’t usually one for straight hard liquor but he’d make an exception tonight.

Meanwhile, John was on the phone with Boston police, explaining that a very angry and disoriented naked women had broken into his shop. As soon as he hung up the phone, he walked into the kitchen and drained the whole glass Brian had poured him.

“You alright there, man?”

John blinked a few times and shook his head. “I don’t rightly know. I reckon it’s a good thing I have insurance. The police said they’d check it out and make a report.”

Brian sipped his whiskey. He hated the taste of it as much as he remembered and decided that one sip was all he needed.“Your insurance covers crazed women summoned by old creepy books?”

John gave Brian a look. “Well, like they say… like a good neighbor…”

Brian punched John in the arm, forgetting his injury, and then hissed in pain.

“We should probably clean these up. Claire will get onto us if we just let them fester.”

Brian followed John through his bedroom, which he hadn’t seen before, and distinctly tried to not look at the bed.

“We should charge our phones,” John said. “I’ve got a couple chargers in here. Hand me yours.”

Brian handed his over and John plugged them in and sat them on the nightstand by the bed. They continued the master bathroom, where John had his first aid kit.

The box John pulled out from under the sink looked very familiar.

“Mom gave that to you, didn’t she?” Brian said, as he hopped up to sit on the bathroom counter.

John’s lips curled into a small smile. “Quite.” He stood from where he was kneeling on the floor and sat the first aid kit on the counter beside Brian. “Apparently the one I had was ‘woefully inadequate’.”

Brian let out a huffed laugh as John opened the box to get out the supplies.

“Give me your hand,” John said.

Brian put out his hand and John cupped it in his own, their injuries laying together like a matching set. He proceeded to slowly, carefully, clean the burn and administer the burn gel. Each touch was gentle and sent warm, welcome shivers through his body. He adored being touched by this man. That’s all he knew.

John put on the bandage, his touch lingering for a moment, then he pulled away, cleaning his throat. “All done.”

Brian slid off the counter, still feeling the phantom sensation of John’s hand. Despite everything else that had happened tonight, his thoughts still remained here in this moment with this man.

“Your turn,” Brian managed.

John caught his gaze briefly, which sent a flutter through Brian. Normally, he’d try to brush it off, but tonight, he decided to just let it be and let the feeling fill him. He took John’s hand in his own and he took care of the burn as he should, but he also let his fingers trail, his touch remain longer than necessary. When he finally put the bandage on, he should’ve pulled away, but instead he just let his hand stay there and let his fingers slide soft, gentle. He let his touch move up John’s arm to feel the soft hairs on his wrist and then slide beneath searching out the thrum of his pulse.

Brian’s eyes lifted and met John’s. It filled him with a boiling want he was unsure how to ignore. A shaky breath broke through his lips.

“Brian…” John breathed out softly. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

John’s eyes fluttered shut. “It’s not right.”

“I want this… and I think you want it too, what about that isn’t right?”

“It’s not about what I want.”

Brian squeezed John’s arm. “It should be. You deserve to have the things that you want.”

John shook his head. “Not this. Not _you._ Jamie’s my best friend.”

“Then, he should care enough about you to understand,” Brian said, not believing it himself but still hoping.

“It’s not just that he wouldn’t approve, and I highly doubt that he would… it’s that… your father and I have a history…” John bit his lip, stop talking.

Brian considered this for a moment, “Did you…” his eyes widened. “ _Fuck_ Jamie?”

“No, Brian. God, no, but there was a time where my feelings for your father were _more_ than friendship. I don’t feel that way anymore and it’s been many, many years since I have, and he never returned those feelings, but I couldn’t in good conscious be with you if you didn’t know… and now that you do, how could you want to be with me?”

Brian said nothing just let the thought sink in. John had once been in love with Jamie. _Jamie._ Did that _ruin_ this for Brian? Should it? What did it mean if it didn’t…?

When Brian looked at John’s frowning face and those sad, soft lines around his eyes, he found he didn’t care what it meant. Though he did have one question first.

“Do you think… I mean do you like me because I remind you of him?”

“I should say yes.” John shook his head. “I should say yes and end this here, but it wouldn’t be true. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Brian, but you’re quite an unusual man.”

“ _Hey,_ ” Brian said, faking pouting. Then smiled.

“I want you for you, Brian. And God help me I do want you.”

Brian took a step closer, taking the front of John’s thin shirt into his hand. “I’m right here. Take what you want then.”

“Christ, Brian. I’m _so_ much older than you. It would be wrong of me to—”

“John… here’s the thing. I _really_ like you. I’ve really liked you for a long time. Say no and I’ll never mention it again. But you have to be sure you don’t want this because I’ll I have to find a way to close the door on you because this is… it’s being eating me up, man. If I have to shut that door, I know I’ll have to shut it hard and I have no idea if I’d be able to get it back open again.”

John held his gaze for another moment, drew in a deep, decisive breath, and then pulled their mouths together.

Brian sank into the kiss, into the pure indulgence of finally having this man, feeling his mouth against his own. For real. After so many months of surviving on dreams alone.

They pulled apart, gasping, and looking into each other’s eyes, tension pulled tight, an irresistible force. They crashed into each other again.

If the first kiss had been warmth and relief, the second was heat and want, the third molten desperation. Brian lost count after that. Slick wet lips and slides of tongue. John tasted like whiskey, but transformed to something delicious in his mouth.

It was easy enough to stumble out of the bathroom as they grabbed each other, searching out hard lines and bare skin. And then Brian was bold enough to slide his hands under John’s shirt and over the warm planes of his stomach to solid muscle of his chest. The sound that escaped John’s mouth then was the sexiest sound Brian had heard in his life.

John gripped Brian’s hips so hard it almost hurt. For a terrifying moment, Brian worried John would push him away. And he did, push Brian, but he pushed him onto the bed.

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted you,” John growled.

Brian smirked. “I might have an idea.”

John tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He had a fucking gorgeous body. Brian was biased, sure. But this man was objectively _gorgeous._

“The things I’ve wanted to do to you.” John snapped open his belt buckle, and the sound was so hot it nearly made Brian blackout. “The amount of times I’ve touched myself thinking of you.”

“I have a feeling I’ve got your number beat there.”

“ _Fuck,”_ John breathed and crawled on top of him.

They were kissing again and the blew away around them like smoke. The world was skin and kisses and hands and tongues and aching hardness. And the buzz of a vibrating cellphone.

They ignored it and kept on. John was kissing a trail down Brian’s ribs, and the phone went off again.

“Is it yours or mine?” John asked, breath hot against Brian’s skin.

“Who cares?” Brian groaned.

John shrugged and returned to his previous, delightful occupation, but was interrupted by the cellphone again.

“I think it’s mine. I should see who it is. They’re relentless."

Brian whined, but since he was closer, he reached over and pulled the phone out of the charger. “It’s Willa.”

“I have to answer it.”

As much as Brian hated it, John was right. He couldn’t just ignore a call from his daughter who was at a party on Halloween. He’d had to call his own parents to get him from high school parties where things got out of hand.

Brian handed the phone over to John.

“Hello,” he said, managing to sound half-alright. “Wait, what? Oh Christ. Where are you? Oh my God. I’m coming right now. Willa, be quiet and hide. I love you.” He hung and nearly threw himself off the bed and scrambled for his shirt on the floor.

“What’s going on? Is Willa okay?”

“That fucking woman. Whoever she was… is in the house where Willa is.”

“ _What?”_ Brian shouted. “ _Why? How?”_

 _“_ I don’t know, but I have to go.”

“Not without me.”

“No, Brian.” John said. “I don’t want you where you could get hurt.”

“Tough,” Brian replied. “And you had too much to drink to drive anyway.”

As John left the bedroom, he was looking down at his phone, then put it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” Brian asked.

“Your father. We could use his help”

. . .

When they arrived at Willa’s friend’s house, the door was wide open. Brian parked the car haphazardly on the street and Grey rushed inside with Brian barreling in behind him. Spooky electronic music boomed from the speakers and green and purple lights through a fog that laid over the myriad Halloween decorations, nearly as elaborate as a haunted house. On the phone, Willa had said the boy’s parents had a cupboard under the stairs like the Dursleys and that’s where she was. He hoped she was still there. So far, he hadn’t seen one other child. Then, they heard a scream. But it was only one of the Halloween decorations—a stupid witch mask on the wall.

“Over here,” Brian called, waving his hand through the fog. “I see the stairs.”

They made their way over and opened the cupboard door. It was completely dark.

“Willa,” Grey whispered, hoping it was just dark. “Are you there?”

No answer, but there was another scream. This one real enough to send a shock of icy fear down Grey’s spine.

“Where’d that come from?” Brian whispered.

“I don’t know.”

“John,” a deep, familiar voice called out in a Scottish accent. “Where are ye?”

“Jamie. We’re over here. We have to find Willa.”

“She’s not where she said?”

“No,” Grey said, stomach sinking into a dark, cold pit as he saw Jamie and Claire’s faces altered by lights and the fog. “No. She’s… no. I can’t find _anyone.”_

“Did you try calling her?”

“I dinna think it would be worth yer time,” came a woman’s hissing voice.

Grey pivoted towards the sound to see that same woman walking towards him. No longer disheveled and unhinged, but cold and calculating, radiating an unsettling, evil power. He instinctively moved between her and Brian.

“Where the fuck is my daughter?” Grey snarled.

“Your daughter?” the woman laughed. “She’s not really your daughter though is she?”

“The hell she isn’t.” Who was this lady? How did she know anything about them or their lives?

The evil woman’s lips tipped into a horrible smile. “She doesna ken, does she? That she’s not the daughter of a rich Englishman, but a criminal Scot who abandoned her when she was but a wee lass.”

“I didna _fucking_ abandon her,” Jamie spat, lunging towards the woman. She threw him back with a flick of her wrist.

“Jamie!” Claire shouted and rushed back to her husband.

She reached behind her and then threw a tied-up Willa in front of her. “If she didna ken it before, she does now.”

Willa looked frozen, mouth gagged and body bound with strings of unplugged orange lights, her small hands curled into fists at her side. The rage Grey felt in that moment was unlike anything he ever felt before. It was only Brian’s gentle hand on his wrist that kept him from lunging forward as Jamie had done.

“But that’s no the only secret we have here. No yer clan of simple-minded mortals who somehow found themselves in possession of a power far beyond any of their imaginations have betwixt ye a great multitude of secrets.”

“Just tell us what the hell you want?” Brian spat. “We don’t know or care anything about you.”

She pointed a long bony finger at Grey. “He bought my books-s-s-s. A transaction made in gold.”

Brian snorted. “He didn’t make a transaction in gold. He’s not a leprechaun.”

But Grey had… _fuck,_ he had. “I… I did. I… it’s how I got such a good deal. I thought they were just the kind of people who didn’t trust banks.”

“It’s nice that you all came to her rescue, but I only need two of ye. One per each of my books.”

“One what?” Claire snapped.

“Sacrifice, of course.” She cleared her throat and began to recite, “Once paid for by gold and invoked by two who share blood on a night of dark power, she shall rise from the seventh circle and perform the rites upon the books and the sacrifice over them of the gold-payer’s two most beloved.” She combed her long horrible fingers through Willa’s hair. “There’s the lass of course, but there’s the matter of the other…”

Jamie struggled to his feet. “Ye can have me, but ye willna have the girl.”

The witch—or whatever she was—laughed. “Och, sit yer arrogant arse down. It wasna ye that I meant.”

“Then who?” Claire spat.

“Weel, tis no’ ye, but ye kent that ye dinna have what a man of his tastes desires. Yer son however… aye, a different story all together.”

Thoughts thundered through his mind at a million miles an hour. _How could she know? Jamie knows. She outed Brian. Jamie will kill me. Brian, Brian’s in danger too._

“Christ,” Jamie said. “Yer insane. John would never.”

She laughed. “Tell that to the bruise on yer son’s neck or the aura around him that screams how much he wants to be bent over and fucked up the arse. Like father, like son. But,” the witch shrugged. “If ye dinna believe me, we can always test.”

 _Murderous,_ Grey realized. That’s how he felt. It was a feeling he hadn’t ever felt before, so he didn’t recognize it at first. But yes, that’s what it was. He wanted to kill her and he’d be happy to do it.

The witch removed the strange book from under her cloak and held it out to Willa. “Speak upon it,” she said as she removed the gag from Willa’s mouth.

“Up yours, bitch,” Willa spat.

For a stupid flash, John thought about correcting her language, but then settled for being proud of instead.

The once ordinary book started to hover and glow, then the witch snatched it out of the air and held it against her body. “Ye see. Makes it quite obvious.” She crooked her finger at Jamie. “Come here, ye hulking brute, and I’d advise against trying to attack me again.”

Glaring, Jamie stomped over and stood in front of the book. She held it up to him. “Yer sick,” he said, but bothing happened. Then, she moved past Grey to Brian, holding the book in front of him.

“Speak,” she insisted.

“The cloak is very two centuries ago,” Brian snarked, and she scowled back him.

At first, the book stayed quiet and dark, but then it rose, glowing and hovering, over the witch’s hand. The witch took a step back. “As I said…”

She crooked her finger again and Brian started sliding towards her as she murmured beneath her breath in a language Grey couldn’t identify. Brian looked at Willa, who was looking back at him, terrified.

“Leave them alone!” Grey shouted, helplessly, unable to move. “Leave them the fuck alone. Take me. Can’t you please take me? A willing sacrifice must be worth something.”

“Aye,” she snapped. “But quite a bit less than an unwilling one.”

There was a stretch of silence, then something lit in Brian’s eyes. “Your ring, Mom. Dad’s ring,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“What?” she replied, obviously confused.

“ _Mom.”_ he tried again.

A wave of understanding washed over Claire’s features, though Grey still wasn’t following. “It’ll still be you.”

“But not her.”

“Jamie…” she breathed.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry, Sassenach, but ye canna ask me no’ to save my own daughter. Please.”

Trembling, Claire reached to her right ring finger and slowly slid Frank Randall’s ring off. “John,” she said, her voice shaking. “I want to buy the books from you."

“What the bloody hell?” the witch spat. “Ye canna do that.”

Grey looked at Willa, then at Brian, and he knew then… he knew what the young man intended and he loved him for it, even if he also hated him for it too. “Yes, they’re yours.”

Claire tossed the ring to Grey, who caught it. It felt warm in his hands.

“For Christ’s sake!” the witch spat.

“Test it,” Brian said. “Test the book.”

Muttering, she held the book out to Willa again. It still glowed. “See. It doesna work that—“

“You have to put it in fire,” Willa spat. “It was in the book.”

“ _Quiet.”_

When Grey had brought the gold to the previous owners, there had been a fire in their hearth. He hadn’t thought anything of it, but…

“The Jack-o-Lantern,” Brian said. “Behind you.”

Grey turned around and dropped the ring into the top of the burning pumpkin. The book glowing by Willa turned dark.

The witch snarled and shoved Willa forward, the lights unfurling off her. She crashed into Jamie.

“I love ye,” Jamie said. “I have since the day ye were born. Yer da will explain everything to ye. I promise.”

Willa nodded, then stepped away, colliding into Grey. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter than he ever had. He had Willa safe with him, but he was about to lose the other two most important people to him.

Just then, both Brian and Jamie began to float, rising into the air before them.

“Hey John,” Brian said, those perfect lips tipping into a smile. “Me too.”

A tear fell unbidden from Grey’s eye as he trembled, being swallowed by the feeling of falling, slowly, endlessly. _Wake up from this nightmare_ , he thought, _wake up_.

. . .

_I’m flying,_ Brian thought, like an idiot. It was almost cool, to just be floating in the air, but it was possible fear had drowned out reasonable thought and left him with only the silliest of thoughts.

Dying would be easier that way. If he could still find the humor in it. And maybe he’d be wrong, there was magic after all. So maybe there would be an afterlife and soon enough, he’d be having brunch on a cloud with his dad.

“I love ye,” Jamie said, and Brian thought he had to be talking to Claire or Willa, but then he said it again. “I love ye, Brian. Ye dinna have to say it back and ye dinna have to feel it, but I want ye to ken that I do. All of ye. Just as ye are… even if I think yer taste in men is dreadful.” He smirked and shot a look at John.

So maybe joking in the face of death was hereditary.

“As touching as this is,” the witch said. “I’m getting quite bored with all of ye.” She flicked her hands out to the side and two books fluttered from her coat and hovered in the air, trembling and glowing, as the horrible stench of death rippled through the room.

The witch turned towards Jamie and Brian, her eyes glowing but black as night. She began to speak in a language Brian didn’t understand, but recognized as Scottish Gaelic, so whatever she was saying at least Jamie would understand. Just then, her voice slipped into English.

“I call on the power,” she said. “I call on the power of the books. I call on the power of the books of darkest magic.” She said this once, twice, three times. Louder each time, arms spread open.

It was a hideous sight. Far from the last thing Brian wanted to see in this life. So he looked beyond her, to his mom and to John. He couldn’t think of abetter last thing to see… then, he noticed something strange. Willa was gone. Had they told her to run? So she wouldn’t have to watch?

 _For the best,_ Brian thought, as the room around them began to tremble as if there were an earthquake.

But there she was again, _Willa._ A paper clutched in one hand, the other arm outstretched. Her lips were moving, but Brian couldn’t make out the words above the painful screeching chants of the horrible witch.

His chest began to ache, his arms and throat too as if an invisible snake was coiling around him, constricting and squeezing. Brian tried to fight against it, but it was useless.

One of the books erupted into flame and the scream of pain the witch let out was unlike any sound he’d ever heard before. It seemed to come from somewhere other, somewhere beyond.

The witch hit the ground hard, becoming hideous and screeching and deranged as she had been in the bookstore. The constricting had stopped but they were still trapped helpless in the air. She lunged at Willa, but John threw himself between them. She collided with him and they tussled madly on the ground.

Through all of it, Willa’s lips kept moving. The second book burst into flames too. The witch screamed again. Stiffening and convulsing. Then froze, cracked to pieces like dry wood, burned up and blew away like ash.

At the same time, Brian and Jamie both dropped to the floor.

“Ow,” Brian said, sitting up and rubbing his arm.

John darted forward and dropped to his knees in front of Brian and cupped his face, sweeping back his hair. “Brian. God. Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better.”

John leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

Claire was clutching Jamie, but reached out for Brian’s hand. “You’re both okay. You’re both alive. I’ve got you both.”

“What was that?” Jamie asked. “What did ye three do?”

“It was all Willa,” Claire said.

Willa held up the paper she’d been clutching. “A spell. I tore it out of the book before she took it. Thought it might come in handy. Guess I was right.”

. . .

All five of them headed back to Claire and Jamie’s. Grey and Brian drove in his car, and they clutched each other’s hands the whole time. It wouldn’t be tonight, but thought and hoped that soon they could finish what they’d started back at John’s. They wanted each other, and then they’d learned that, for both of them, that want was more than want. it should scare have scared Grey more than it did, but he and Brian just felt _right._ As if it had always been meant to be this way.

The they made it back to the house, Claire whipped up a batch of pumpkin muffins—she’d taken up baking as a way to destress after a tough day at work, so she thought it might help tonight. Now that the muffins were done they were all together, huddled under Halloween blankets in the living room, drinking warm apple cider. Brian was braced against Grey’s side, clearly tired but comfortable.

“So how was that for a spooky Halloween?” Willa said as she chomped into a pumpkin muffin.

Everyone in the room shot her a glare.

Willa shrugged. “Jeez, tough crowd. I don’t know what you all have to complain about. I’m the one that found out I have two dads, and this wasn’t the way I thought that would happen.”

“Willa, I…” Grey said, “You should not have found out that way.”

“No, but… I’m glad I know, and I’m glad Jamie’s also my dad.” She was sitting on the floor and nudged him in the leg.

“You know what,” Brian said softly, looking at Jamie. “I’m getting there too.”

Jamie didn’t say anything, but he smiled and Claire kissed him on the head.

“Though it is weird my dad is boning my brother,” Willa

Jamie choked on his bite of pumpkin muffin. Frowning, Claire patted him on the back.

“Dear God in Heaven, Willa. Don’t say it like that,” Grey said, eyes wide and feeling quite uncomfortably exposed.

“I also saved all of your asses tonight and I’m not feeling the gratitude.”

“Language, Willa,” Grey chided.

“How did ye ken how to save us?” Jamie asked.

“Well, like I said I had the book from Papa’s store. It’s how she found me at the party. I’d read some of it, and the pieced it together from the parts I understood. I knew she’d be most vulnerable during the ritual, that the books had to be destroyed. When I first picked up the book, I’d read the spell to make fire. I’d tried it earlier. On one of the Jack-O-Lanterns and it worked.” Willa polished off her pumpkin muffin and grabbed another. “So what do you guys say? You up for an old monster movie? _The Blob_ or _The Ghost of Frankenstein_?”

“ _Gremlins._ ” Brian said, authoritatively.

“Ugh,” Willa groaned. “You know there were movies made in decades beside the 1980s, _bro._ ”

“Were there, _sis_?”

Willa threw one of the festive throw pillows at him, and Brian threw it back.

“Would the two of ye stop yer hollering?” Jamie said, standing up to take the pillow from Willa, who stuck her tongue out at Brian.

It was cacophony of friendly argument and familial wrestling for the remote. Grey could smell the pumpkin spice from the muffins and felt wrapped up warmly in the glow of orange lights. The horror of earlier that evening felt infinitely far away and infinitely smaller than the power of what was here in this room now.

Claire finally managed to turn on a movie, _The Creature from the Black Lagoon,_ and everyone settled in to the dark to watch. Claire nestled in beside Jamie. Willa was sat on the floor, leaning against Jamie’s legs. Grey pulled his arm around Brian even tighter and pressed a kiss to his head.

“Happy Halloween, Love,” Grey whispered softly into his red curls. “But here’s to hoping Thanksgiving is less eventful.”

Brian snuggled in closer and whispered back, “I don’t know. With our luck, the turkey will reanimate and try to baste us.”


End file.
